Ellie – I've Witnessed It.

What They’ll Never Miss.

Posted on February 27, 2025February 27, 2025 by imtaylorwalker

Grief has layers. LOTS of them. It makes me think of that line from Shrek. Yes… I’m actually about to quote a Shrek movie. Please don’t leave. “Ogres are like onions. They have layers!” To me, that’s grief – an onion (or ogre) with endless layers.

There’s a list a mile long of things I miss about my mother. She was so deeply woven into every aspect of my life, like any good mother would be. I miss her voice. I miss her high-pitched laugh. I miss her obsessive need to check in every couple of hours. I miss her calling everyone a “goober”. I miss her asking to pray for me. I just miss her. But this particular post isn’t about what I miss. It’s about my girls… and what they’ll never miss.

There are very few memories I have from my childhood that don’t include my grandparents. Summers spent fishing and four-wheeling at Miller’s Campground… Sundays spent in Siler City listening to Papaw preach… Never hearing the word “No” come from their lips (well, minus the times Mamaw Fletcher would chase me with the flyswap for being too sassy). Core memories at their finest. I can’t imagine what my life would have looked like without them.

Insert onion peeling.

The layers of grief seem to just keep appearing, no matter how much I peel. And the worst layer is grieving for my children. It is… hard. I don’t really have a better word for it. It’s just hard.

They’ll never get to have sleepovers with Mimi. Or go on “Girls Trips”. Or get spoiled with her random gifts. They’ll never see her in the stands. Or hear her tell stories. Or call her with questions. “Secondary Loss” is what professionals call it… The ripple effect of the primary loss. Something about putting a name with it makes it sting a little more.

I remember the very moment the ripple effect became reality for me. I realized Sadie would never have a picture made with Mom. Not a single one. Ellie was only 11 months when Mom died, but at least she had pictures she could look back on. Sadie was robbed of that. And the thought of her never getting to see herself with Mimi crushed me.

Secondary loss doesn’t feel so “secondary” if you ask me.

But here’s the punchline of it all. They’ll never know. They’ll never know what they’re missing out on because they’ll have no reference point. She was gone before she even had the chance to make an impact on them. She didn’t have the time to make lasting memories. Ellie was too young. And Sadie wasn’t here. And the ugly truth is – you can’t miss something you never knew. And that’s the hardest part. I’m left to mourn all of the “could have been” memories with Mimi for them.

So what’s my ray of hope here? Truthfully, I’m still searching for it most days. This particular layer of grief keeps a dangerous hold on me. I often struggle to see how God can use this layer for His good. My mind will fill with thoughts like, “God wouldn’t have taken her if He really loved you.” Or, “You must have really messed up for God to let this happen.” When these lies slip in, all I can do is cling to Psalm 118:1,6:

Oh give thanks to the Lord, for he is good;
for his steadfast love endures forever!

The Lord is on my side; I will not fear.
What can man do to me?

In my darkest moments, these verses offer two simple, powerful truths. First, God loves me. No matter what my spiraling thoughts say, I cannot deny God’s love. It says it right there in His Word! Second, God is not against me. He is not out to destroy me or see me in ruins. He can’t be because, once again, His Word says so!

I don’t know about you, but I find so much comfort in those truths. To never have to doubt my Savior’s love or question where He stands – what a relief. I may not have this particular layer of grief figured out. I doubt I ever will. But I can move forward with the knowledge that God is holding me and my girls in His loving arms.

And He’s holding you too, friend.

church

The Turning Point.

Posted on February 24, 2025February 24, 2025 by imtaylorwalker

Have you ever read Lamentations? No, I don’t just mean 3:22-23. I mean in its entirety. Don’t get me wrong, those verses offer a wonderful reminder – His mercies are new every morning. Praise the Lord for that! But, what about the rest of the book?

To lament means “to express grief or sorrow; to mourn.” That’s exactly what the book of Lamentations is… grief, sorrow, and mourning. In fact, Lamentations 1:1-3:20 is utterly d-e-p-r-e-s-s-i-n-g. The author describes destruction, starvation, wickedness, and death… yikes. It’s not a book people often turn to when looking for joy-filled encouragement. But maybe we should. Because Lamentations offers something beautiful to believers. It offers a turning point.

Riley and I were not faithfully attending a church when Mom died. Since the beginning of our marriage, we were your typical “church-hoppers”. We never stayed at one church for too long. We had a bad habit of missing a handful of Sundays and were too embarrassed to go back. We didn’t want the guilt-trip of explaining where we’d been. The answer was never justifiable. So, instead of facing our faults, we just… hopped.

By the time we had Ellie, we pretty much gave up on going completely. I was a clingy, anxious, breastfeeding mom who refused to go near a church nursery. We did try a couple services with Ellie on my lap, but it was a trainwreck. No more than 5 minutes in, I’d be off to a bathroom stall trying to nurse her to sleep… which didn’t work. So up and down the halls I’d go, not catching a single word of the sermon. It was terrible. After that, we just avoided the church subject altogether. **Not-So-Fun Fact: One of the last things I ever got to say to Mom was a lie. She asked if we had made it to church that morning. I was too embarrassed to admit we hadn’t been going, so I lied. Sorry about that, Mama. Guess you know now.**

It was an awful feeling, really. Because we knew better. We were both saved at a young age. We had grown up in good churches. Basically all of our family faithfully attended. But we had fallen into the dangerous trap of complacency. We had convinced ourselves that if we just cut the Sunday livestream on in the background, we could check off our “church box” and carry on with life. Boy, were we wrong.

Fast-forward to Mom’s funeral. Dr. Corts said something during the sermon that hit me like a ton of bricks.

She was strikingly grateful and thankful for the salvation He had won for her on the cross. She was saved from her sin and given a new life. But what was so distinctive about her was that she NEVER got over it. It was almost as if she couldn’t believe it. Which I think is always a sign of a genuine follower of Jesus.

There it was… The truth I had so desperately been hiding from. I had lost my gratitude. I had overlooked His sacrifice. I had gotten over Jesus. What was I doing?

Back to Lamentations for a minute. In the first two and a half chapters, we see how God’s people are paying the price for their sin. The author outlines the absolute state of darkness they were facing. But then, there’s a turning point. Lamentations 3:19-24 says,

Remember my affliction and my wanderings, the wormwood and the gall! My soul continually remembers it and is bowed down within me. But this I call to mind, and therefore I have hope: The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness. The Lord is my portion, says my soul, therefore I will hope in him.

In those few verses, everything changes. The trajectory shifts. Darkness is met with light… with HOPE.

The wreck was our turning point. It’s when our life of darkness turned to a life of hope. When Mom died, heaven became overwhelmingly real. I don’t know if anyone can relate, but heaven kind of felt more like a fantasy before. It’s not that I thought it was fake. I guess I just struggled to fully understand the reality of it. But once I knew Mom had entered those pearly gates, everything changed. It’s as if I could see her worshipping at the feet of Jesus. I could hear her singing “Holy! Holy! Holy! To the Lord God Almighty!” I could envision her whole and perfect and pain-free, no longer burdened by this world.

This realization brought us running back to the place we should have been all along… We had missed out on YEARS of spiritual growth and opportunity to serve. There was no more time to waste. I’m not saying church will save you. I’m just saying it’s where you’ll want to be if you are.

Church is prickly. It steps on your toes. It holds you accountable. A lot of people don’t like that. I sure didn’t for all of those years. But, let me offer you the piece of the puzzle I was missing… Church restores my HOPE. It puts God’s goodness on full display. It offers growth. It reminds us why life matters and what we must do with the time we’ve been given.

Maybe you’ve drifted. Maybe you’re running from the truth. Maybe you’ve become complacent and do just enough to check a box. It’s time to face the truth. Let this be your turning point.

Find a church. Call it home. Show up faithfully. Serve your community. Be a light. And never get over Jesus.

August 6

The Call.

Posted on February 20, 2025February 21, 2025 by imtaylorwalker

You’ve seen it in movies. You’ve read it in books. You might have experienced it yourself. It’s the call. The one that stops your heart. The one that tears your world apart. The one you won’t forget… no matter how much you want to.

You’ll have to forgive me. This particular post will be messy. It won’t be “beautifully written.” But I think it’s a crucial piece of the puzzle that needs to be told. So, buckle up and bear with me… Here we go.

*Sunday, August 6, 2023 – just a little after 3 PM*

I was kicked back in the recliner, mindlessly scrolling Instagram, holding Ellie as she napped. Riley had just walked out the door to grab a few things from Family Dollar.

A Facebook message popped up from Cody. “You need to call me now. *insert number*” I was confused… I hesitated. A second message came through. “Your mom and my dad were in a severe car accident.”

I immediately thought it was a scam. He must have been hacked. I had seen a lot of those fake reports going around on social media. You know the ones. “I can’t believe they’re gone! Click this link to see the accident report…” Surely that’s what this was.

I texted Mom. “What’s Cody’s number?” No response. I called her. No answer.

Breathe, Taylor.

I called Bruce. No answer. Panic started to set in just as my phone rang… but it wasn’t Mom or Bruce. It was Cody. I struggled to grasp everything he was saying.

“They’ve been in an accident… They were headed to Brett’s for a birthday party… I know where Dad is but I don’t know where they’re taking your mom… They put her in an ambulance… It’s very bad…”

BREATHE, Taylor.

We hung up, and I called Riley screaming. “Get home now. We have to go. I don’t know where she is yet but we have to start driving.”

While I waited for Riley to pull in, I started making calls to the hospitals surrounding the crash site. “S-c-h-n-e-g-g-e-n-b-u-r-g-e-r.” I spelled it so many times I thought my head was going to explode. No one had record of her yet. I gave them my number and begged them to call as soon as she showed in the system.

I grabbed some bags and started throwing in the essentials. Clothes, toiletries, Ellie’s diapers, phone charger. What I thought would happen was we would get there and not be able to come home for several days. I thought she would be in rough shape and not be able to be moved to a closer facility. I thought she would need me for support.

Riley walked in the door, and I told him to pack fast. My phone started to ring again. This time, it was Watauga Medical.

“Is this Taylor?” Yes, it is. “Okay. This is Dr. Nelson with Watauga Medical. We have your mom here. Where are you coming from?” We live in Walkertown. We’re a good hour and a half from there. But we’re coming. “Okay. Please drive safely, it’s been storming. We’ll talk more when you get here.” Wait… Ma’am noone has told me how my mom even is. Can you just tell me she’s alive at least?

I said that last part as if it were an obvious fact. Of course she was alive… right?

What followed that question, though, wasn’t the obvious answer I was expecting. I swear it was the longest pause I had ever heard in my entire life. The silence. The hesitation. It was deafening.

“Taylor…”

I lost it.

“I’m so sorry. We did everything we could…” I couldn’t hear anything else she said. I threw the phone at Riley and fell to my knees. I screamed. And then I puked. And then I basically repeated the two until I didn’t have anything left to give.

The time between the call and getting in the car is still pretty much a blur. I remember calling Cody and telling him Mom was dead. I remember him telling me Bruce was dead too… That he already knew when he called the first time but didn’t want to scare me in case there was a chance for Mom. I look back on that and really admire him. I can’t imagine how hard that must have been to hold back the emotion.

I remember calling my aunt. I remember calling my brother. I remember calling my dad. “Mom is dead. Bruce is dead. They’re all dead.”

I remember wandering around the house in a daze, still trying to find clothes to pack. It was as if the news hadn’t registered and my brain still thought I’d need to stay at the hospital. Riley finally stopped me and put me in the car… Off we went.

I don’t have many “words of wisdom” to share with this post. Plain and simple, it was the worst moment of my life. It was also the turning point in my faith. As we headed down the driveway, Riley grabbed my hand. “You know where she is now. She’s okay.”

Those words cut me. He was right. I didn’t want to accept it yet, but he was right. She was okay… She still is. She’s better than okay. Those words made me realize heaven isn’t as “far off” as we make it out to be. Death can happen in the blink of an eye. And the way I had been living didn’t emulate that truth. Things needed to change. If only it hadn’t taken my mother’s death to have this revelation.

But it wasn’t too late for me. And if you’re reading this post, it’s not too late for you. James 4:14 says,

Why, you do not even know what will happen tomorrow. What is your life? You are a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes.

We aren’t promised the rest of today. We definitely aren’t promised tomorrow. I pray this post encourages you to stop waiting to make changes for Christ. Eternity can start at any moment. Let’s use what time we have left to make a difference for Him.